Try Again
by secretfanficlover
Summary: Healer Malfoy is placed in charge of helping Harry Potter recover his memories, and through some unorthodox methods they both end up with more than they expected.


**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

* * *

Word Count: 2295

Title: Try Again

Note:

Warnings:

Beta: Veritty Grahams

* * *

Hogwarts

Assignment 10: Healer Studies: Ward 49: Task #4 - Longbottoms: Write about someone suffering spell damage

Yearly:

Prompt 187 [Theme] Amnesia

* * *

"Harry, no!" Ron shouted, just as the man cried.

"_Obliviate_!"

It was too late, they needed to get Harry to St Mungo's right away, and it wouldn't do to wait. Ron knew that Hermione wouldn't be able to handle it. She still struggled daily with losing her parents when they were unable to recover their memories after the war.

Ron held onto Harry's arm, _Apartating_ into the waiting room where a nurse was by his side within seconds. He had defeated Lord Voldemort, and he was still famous all over the Wizarding world for that and the fact that he had saved many lives as an Auror since. It was clear that this was considered to be an emergency.

"Come on, mate," Ron said, holding onto his arm as he led him into an examination room.

"So, what happened?" she asked, before calling the healer.

"He was _Obliviated_, and now he doesn't remember anything," Ron said with a sigh.

"Where are we?" Harry asked curiously, looking around at everything with wide eyes.

When the healer walked in Ron groaned. "Not you," he said.

"Weasley, I am the best Healer in this place," Malfoy shot back.

"You're so pretty! You could be on a Christmas card," Harry said, grinning at the blond healer with his icy grey eyes.

"What in Merlin's name happened?" Malfoy asked, having just missed the explanation.

"Hello, what's your name?" Harry asked.

"Uhm, Healer Malfoy," he replied, shocked.

"Do you know who I am?" Harry asked as his eyes flickered between the redhead who called him mate, and the mad-looking – yet extremely attractive – doctor. He didn't recognize either of them.

"You're Harry Bloody Potter," Malfoy said suddenly.

"What a curious name," Harry replied. _"Harry Bloody Potter."_

Ron laughed despite the situation, he couldn't help it.

"Potter's head is as empty as a flowerpot," Malfoy insisted, and Ron seemed to be suffering from hysterics. "This isn't funny, Weasley, please leave," Malfoy said, glaring at him.

"Go stuff a stocking!" Ron shot over his shoulder as the door swung shut behind him.

Harry watched as the redhead named Weasley left, and turned his attention to the attractive healer.

* * *

Malfoy cursed. Was this his punishment for being a bad person? That he had to be stuck trying to heal a man he had once despised? He didn't know what Potter would do once he finally remembered everything, but, Potter had called him '_cute'_. The thought was just too much to process right now.

They went through various stages of testing, and he tried numerous reversal spells, but nothing seemed to help. All the attention just seemed to encourage Potter flirt with him all the more. He had no idea that Potter had found him attractive, and once it became clear, he decided to change tactics.

"Maybe we should get some fresh air. What do you think, Harry?" he asked, feeling his voice stumble over the first name.

Perhaps this was his chance to finally start over. Maybe now he could try to befriend the famous Harry Potter. Potter smiled back at him, and suddenly they needed to get fresh air, very quickly. Being in his office with the doors closed, he didn't know how long he could stop himself from acting on his own feelings he had been hiding away all these years.

* * *

Harry might not remember who he was, or anything about how he got here, but the healer was the most handsome man he had ever seen, and he intended to make sure Healer Malfoy knew that. The two of them strolled down a path, and when Harry tried to take Malfoy's hand, he folded his hands over his middle.

"Do you not like me or something?" Harry asked despondently.

"Or something," Malfoy replied.

"Oh, is it because of my redheaded friend?" he asked, thinking back to earlier in the examination room. Malfoy's attitude had seemed to change as soon as Ron had left the room.

"Well, the truth is, he's one of the reasons we were never friends," Malfoy admitted.

Harry eyed the man curiously.

"You know me?" he asked.

Malfoy nodded. "Let's just say we went to school together."

"Well, I like you now," Harry said with a cheeky smile.

"You wouldn't if you remembered everything." He blushed crimson.

"I think I still would," Harry insisted. They stopped in a park, and Harry went to sit down on a metallic green bench, watching the wind blowing the round-a-bout.

"What are you looking at?" Malfoy asked him curiously.

"I think it's a memory," he said slowly.

* * *

_Harry was sitting on a swing, watching the wind blowing through the park. He was hiding out from Dudley. He had been taunting him, and he wanted to keep a low profile until things calmed down at Number Four Privet drive._

* * *

"What do you remember?" Malfoy asked, forgetting himself.

He was curious. This seemed to be working far better at triggering memories than any magical spells or testing. Perhaps he needed to take Potter to places that meant something to him, to help him remember.

"Only sitting on a swing, feeling alone and scared, and knowing that I couldn't go back somewhere. I remember watching the wind blow through the park," Harry said slowly, as if the memory was painful.

"I have a good idea," Malfoy said, forgetting all professionalism. "Let me push you."

For a moment, Harry looked puzzled, then he grinned, and went to sit down on the swing for the other man to push him. He felt a freedom, and something inside him suspected he had never been pushed on a swing before, unless it had been when he was very young.

Harry laughed happily, and then he saw the wind had blown in the clouds, dark grey thunder clouds that were filling the sky and casting shadows on them. When the rain came pouring down on them, Harry felt excited, but he could tell Healer Malfoy wanted to get out of the storm.

"Come on, you idiot, we will catch our death out here," Malfoy said, grabbing Harry by the arm.

Harry felt a spinning sensation as they reappeared somewhere else; another place he didn't recognize. All this information was making him dizzy. His friend had mentioned that in their line of work they caught the bad guys. He felt Malfoy take his arm again.

"Thank you, Healer," he said as he leaned on him for support.

"Call me Draco," Malfoy suggested, and Harry wondered why Draco was being so nice to him if they were never friends before.

"Hey, Draco," he said.

"Yeah?"

"So, why are you being this nice to me if we weren't friends?" Harry asked as he was lead to a chair in a small bar.

"I suppose we all need to grow up sometime. It is the decent thing to do, isn't it?" Draco phrased it as a question, but there was no real response for it.

Harry merely shrugged. "Where are we?" he asked instead.

"I thought we would get a drink before we go to your childhood home. If you remember, we might need it," Draco said dryly before turning to the barman to get them each a firewhiskey.

Harry didn't remember it, but he knew he liked it once he took his first sip. So, as soon as the two of them finished their drinks, Draco paid the barman and stood up. He gave Harry his hand to pull him to his feet, and suddenly a memory overcame him again.

* * *

_Harry was standing next to the redhead and a bushy haired brunette, and a blond boy with sharp features and a scowl was holding out his hand for Harry to shake. Harry denied the boy, and watched the anger flicker over the boy's face as an elder woman broke them apart and called for their attention._

* * *

"What is it?" Draco asked, looking curiously at him.

"I denied your hand the first time, but I don't remember why," Harry said, "It's only images without context."

"I don't blame you anymore," Draco said, surprising Harry.

"Why not?" Harry asked as Draco led the way out of the pub.

"I was quite the prat at school," Draco admitted, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, he hoped Draco would keep smiling, he liked the look on the blond's face a lot more than the scowl.

"Look," Draco said, pointing at a sign that read '_Godric's Hollow._'

Harry supposed this was supposed to mean something to him, so he tried to focus and take in the sights, to see if anything jogged his memory. He felt something eerie about this place, and without thinking he reached for Draco's hand and held it tight.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked, Harry knew he felt the pressure of Harry's hand in his.

"No, not yet," Harry admitted. "But this place gives me the creeps."

Draco nodded. "You're not alone, I'm with you this time," Draco said, and Harry was tempted to ask what Draco meant by this, but he wasn't sure he was ready to face the reply.

They walked down the street in Godric's Hollow, and he spotted the sign from the cemetery. Something was pulling him in that direction and he started to move towards it.

"Not yet," Draco suggested.

Harry shrugged, he supposed he needed to trust Draco. Draco hadn't faced him with anything he couldn't handle yet. "So where to then?" he asked instead.

Draco's face looked serious again, so Harry was sure it wasn't a happy place.

"What's left of your house, unfortunately," Draco said.

When faced with the wreckage of what his home used to be. He felt some images returning, a green light, a woman's scream. This was the first time he heard sound. Harry shuddered, and tears began to fall.

"My parents," he said softly, his voice was merely a whisper into the clear night.

Draco's arms went around him, and he cried until he felt empty inside. "Come on, I know a great place to hide. I mean think, not hide. We're not hiding. We're thinking. That's it," Draco soothed.

"Are we doing the teleporting thing again?" Harry asked.

"_Aparating_, yes," Draco said. He took Harry's arm and whisked them away.

* * *

"I've never been here before," Harry stated, carefully looking around, trying to see if this was another part of Draco's therapy.

"No, you wouldn't have been, this is what I call home now," Draco said.

The place was a small bachelor flat, with an open plan living area and kitchenette. There were only two doors to the main living area, and it was all decorated with very modern and crisp colours. The countertops were granite, and there was one large chair in front of a large television.

"It's beautiful," Harry said.

"It is?" Draco asked, and Harry could see this was puzzling him.

"Any place to call home should be," Harry said. "I don't know if that makes sense."

"I suppose it does. Especially after all you have been through," Draco replied.

"It seems my childhood wasn't easy," Harry said with a shrug.

"Promise me something," Draco said. It was clear the thought had been in those grey eyes.

"What?" Harry asked, reluctant when seeing the expression on the man's face.

"Well, when you remember everything…" Draco started but trailed off.

"Come on, talk to me," Harry insisted, wanting to take the sad look out of his eyes.

"This wasn't charity, you know," Draco said.

"I am not following where you are going with this," Harry admitted honestly. "But I do wish you would smile.

"Everything you knew about me, it was all a lie!" Draco suddenly exploded with a despondent expression.

"Like what?" Harry asked, stepping closer, he was so close to Draco he could smell the hint of firewhiskey on his breath.

"Hit me," Draco said, ignoring the question.

"Don't be crazy," Harry replied, he didn't want to hit the hot healer, he wanted to pull him into his arms and kiss him.

"Someday you might thank me for this," Draco said with a sigh, and then he shoved Harry hard, almost knocking him into the counter.

Harry tripped, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted the snow falling outside the window, and he knew they were far away from Godric's Hollow. He attempted to straighten up. He was puzzled, what was Draco trying to do?

"Just do it," Draco said softly, it seemed like he was resigned to it, perhaps even trying to entice it.

Harry's hands touched Draco's chest, and he shoved him back, knocking the slender man off his frame. As he fell to the floor in front of him, Harry's reflexes reached out and caught him. The memories of the last few years came flooding back all at once, and all too soon. Harry was overwhelmed with guilt, sorrow, and even passion, but he managed to make sure Draco didn't get hurt before he collapsed into the chair, and sobbed furiously.

Draco said nothing for a long time. When Harry finally realised the time, he was confused as to why Draco hadn't thrown him out hours ago.

"You know I remember," Harry said.

Draco didn't speak, but he simply nodded.

"Then why haven't you chucked me out?" Harry asked.

"I don't think you ever had a chance to really cry. I told you, I know a good place to hide," Draco said.

"Thank you," Harry replied, his mind was rushing with all the things he could say, everything his former nemesis had done for him, but something made him settle on this instead. "I still think you are pretty."

Draco laughed, and Harry had never heard anything more spectacular in his entire life.


End file.
